Secondhand Marionette
by Emgee Kagamine
Summary: And, like a collector falling in love with that cute doll in the window, it was only natural that one would make the purchase.That is, until those said "inanimate" objects fall in love with their new masters. USCAN FrUK/HUMAN NAMES/ AU
1. Prologue

Secondhand Marionette

Cousins Arthur and Matthew really have no one to depend on except each other. As if living together in the same house wasn't enough for their penny pinching parents, this just pushed the duo to become more isolated; having just the other for company.

Their isolationist attitudes at school, however, further molded them into a lonely enclosure.

Matthew is the more (much more) quiet of the two. He's always found following Arthur, his plush polar bear attached at the hip. Many classmates of Matthew deemed him unsociable and reclusive, going so far as to ignore him purposely _just_ to see his reaction. Nevertheless, Matthew is a bright, compassionate individual, who show complete interest and passion towards books, a trait he and Arthur shared. Although he was never an avid reader of mystery or science fiction, no matter what you asked him, he would always have a prepared lecture on his love of historical literature.

Arthur is reckless and stubborn, with a "my way or the highway" type of attitude. Always protecting his cousin Matthew, he's always felt the need to interrogate _anyone_ who even dared to ask his timid cousin out. So far, they've all failed. His views on life and love are similar: work hard, get it done, pay the rent, and survive. His passion for English literature proved as a great influence on Matthew's life, although, now-a-days, he's found himself drifting into French prose; a secret that his British blood would call "social suicide".

The concepts of "love" and "relationships" are very foreign to Arthur and Matthew. Of course, having clueless parents and a deprivation of any trace of childhood, the two made a pact: to find the other that "_perfect someone_" before they graduate.

The problem?

A shared hobby.

A freshly started doll collection.

Sure, for any normal sixteen year old teen this wasn't considered creepy. Many dolls came from interesting collections, too. And, like a collector falling in love with that cute doll in the window, it was only natural that one would make the purchase.

That is, until those said "inanimate" objects fall in love with their new masters.

_This,_ was going to be interesting.

* * *

**COLOURED ILLUSTRATION FOR THIS STORY CAN BE FOUND HERE: **h t t p : / emgee-chan . deviantart . c o m /gallery / # / d30mwi1


	2. Chapter 1

It started with one doll, then two, then three. They were only children back then, and without anyone else, play time usually consisted of the two of them organizing their collection. However, no matter how many new ones Arthur and Matthew received, the bundle of growing dolls just felt so…empty.

They carried this shared hobby of theirs throughout elementary, middle school, and now at sixteen, the flame of collecting hadn't died out; reason being that they had no real friends to hang out with, or talk to.

One may assume that such a routine through many years would change. After all, now the two were pushing sixteen, and, little did they know, a small suggestion would change their lives.

* * *

Matthew brushed the messy turf of white fur away from his plush polar bear's eyes. It was Saturday, so Arthur and Matthew were luckily stuck at home; away from the terror that was, high school.

Arthur walked into their room carrying a tray of _what appeared to be, _cookies and milk, one would conclude, minus of course the obvious black matter forming off the top of the pastries, and the strange bubbling sizzling from the cup of milk. Setting the tray down on the floor where Matthew sat, he too crouched down and poked at the plush bear, "…you carry this guy around with you everywhere! Why not find a new one for a while?"

For a long time, Arthur knew, Matthew had carried the poor bear ever since their childhood. This resulted in many insults at school, which then led to Matthew crying in the boys' bathroom.

Matthew hugged the bear close, "…I don't want to go by myself…" he reached slowly for a cookie, but quickly changed his mind and continued, "…I wouldn't know how to choose."

Pondering for a moment, Arthur lit up, and proudly proclaimed, "I'll go with you then! We do need new additions to our collection anyway, right? I'll help you find your first authentic doll."

"First" for Matthew was correct; Arthur had been the one to take him collection hunting, trying to explain the differences between porcelain and ceramic, puppet and strings. Although Matthew did contribute to their growing collection with comments as to how they looked "cute" and "fragile", his shy persona couldn't bring himself to ever actually _buying _his own. His favourite plush, had always been that bear.

Arthur, on the other hand, had troubles with favouritism, always just adding more and more to their shelf, and educating himself further on random doll facts and tidbits.

"Before we go!" Arthur stood up quickly, an unusual spark in his eyes, he walked towards his study desk, and pulled out a book from beneath many other papers on top, "This, Matthew, is what we collectors use to decide what kind of doll is best for, well, us!" He sat back down and opened the book somewhere in the middle, in which big font read: "_Which Doll Is Best For You?"_

"You see…" Arthur began, "Dolls are chosen and bought due to collection, condition, and authenticity." He pointed at the first photo in the book, "If a doll is from a popular collection, but is mass produced, the price will be reasonable." Matthew nodded in agreement, "if a doll is from an older collection, and is hard to find, then the price will be reasonably higher, sometimes more." Arthur flipped the page and showed Matthew the second photo, "When we're scouting for dolls, it is important that we make sure the condition is as close to perfect as possible, in order words, collectors would call the pristine state of a doll, a doll in 'mint condition'. This rule applies to both new and old collections."

Matthew looked intrigued, trying his best to absorb the information before they went out to shop. He opened his mouth to speak, "…What is the last one for?"

Arthur straightened up, pointing to a serious photograph, which appeared to have the same doll shown twice, "Authenticity. It means that we need to make sure, as collectors, that the dolls we buy aren't _replicas_. See? The colour of the real doll is brighter than its copy. Some of the shapes are out of proportion as well."

"Ooh…" Matthew stared for a while, he himself couldn't really tell the difference between the two dolls, as they both looked exactly alike, and nonetheless, he was excited.

"Arthur! Arthur! Can we go now? Shopping? For our dolls!" He pulled on Arthur's shirt sleeve, waiting for an answer.

Arthur checked the time and sighed, "I guess it can't be helped." He laughed, "The shop should still be open, so we will go after you get changed."

* * *

Matthew and Arthur walked down the street, the places Arthur usually went to had no new stock; leaving behind a slightly disappointed Matthew.

As they walked on, they turned a corner; Arthur noticed a quaint shop to their left. It seemed old and aged, the wooden structure already showing signs of rot and rust. Above them, an awning coloured in stripes of red and blue was comforting, located beneath the shop's sign that read _"Malice Doll Emporium"._

Something drew them in. They knew not what, or why; perhaps of their cause? They hadn't found anything of interest to them in the other doll shops, and this one appeared promising.

Upon entering the store, the duo decided to split up, agreeing that they would find one they liked better that way.

The internal structure of the store was more or less _older _if possible, than the outside, bearing many a collection of dolls and puppets from all over the world.

There were also two or three other customers in the small shop, browsing and strolling around.

Arthur walked through the set of porcelain dolls that littered the various shelves in that area, such delicate faces, he was almost afraid to take even a step closer for fear of accidently breaking one.

Matthew timidly made his way past a mountain of plush toys and met up with Arthur after running to the end of the bobble-head aisle (oh yes, those things were beyond creepy). Together, they made it to the near end of the shop, where a hanging ceiling sign overhead introduced the start of the "International Dolls" section.

The two looked at each other and shrugged, "Are we…?"

"…We might find something we like."

As they began to wander the section full of dolls, Arthur took note of the amusing themes in each case. Dolls from every part of the world must have a sub-section here! Dolls from Hungary, Japan, Germany, the list would go on and on. Matthew quickly took a liking to the cuter sub-section of dolls near the very end of the store; one in particular, caught his eye.

In a small cabinet, a plush doll of a western cowboy bore the American flag to its right, dressed in complete attire. Arthur came up behind Matthew and pat his head lightly, "Is that the one you want? We'll need to check it."

Wanting Matthew to decide by himself if the doll was worth the purchase, he stretched his back and yawned, he hadn't found anything.

Or so he thought.

Glancing up out of curiosity, Arthur blinked twice at the French tricolour that suddenly appeared before his eyes, and proudly hung in the back of the top shelf. To the left of the flag, a doll of its own, bearing a French-style military uniform, and equipped with a plastic bayonet, attached to a toy rifle fit to scale.

His almost obsessive _infatuation _with historical French literature and his hobby came into clash at that very moment, knowing just as well of the criticism his parents had tried to instil in him as a child; things like, "France is our arch enemy!" or "Put that down, this minute, Arthur! That's French food!" didn't affect him much; in fact, it made his interest in the culture grow more.

Arthur reached out to inspect the doll; everything looked fine until he turned it around. The doll was a marionette; and a strange one at that, as most of the doll was made of plush material. Normally, a puppet of this sort was jointed and manipulated from above by strings by the master.

The back of Arthur's marionette, instead, had the strings cut off.

He looked down at Matthew, the boy's doll also a marionette, strings _also _in a similar condition; but Matthew didn't care for that fact, he held the doll close in a hug, seemingly attached to it already.

They took their merchandise to the cash register. As the clerk noticed them set the two dolls on the desk, he smiled kindly and punched a few numbers into an old calculator. Writing the numbers down on a piece of paper that would soon be their receipt, he lightly tapped the pen's tip on the counter as he thought.

The clerk stopped tapping and dropped the pen, and started packing the two dolls into an even older plastic bag. He handed it over to Arthur.

"…How much?" Arthur asked, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, the man shook his head and laughed it off, "Free. I can tell that these two are going to be in good care."

Arthur raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but suddenly felt Matthew reach into the plastic bag to take it out, and immediately cuddle his new doll.

It may have been the look of adoration in his cousin's eyes for the small doll, but something in the back of his head was telling Arthur to accept the offer.

"…Alright then, if you insist; I thank you for your generosity." They shook hands, and chat for a small while. Doll certificates were given to both dolls, along with the clerk's final words as Arthur and Matthew left the store.

"…_Love gives them life."_


	3. Chapter 2

_Click. Click, click. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK._

"Arthur!" Matthew whined, holding his doll protectively, as if the very sound of Arthur's rampant keyboard rage was like a bomb waiting to explode, "Stop chanting to yourself! You're scaring Al!"

Arthur stopped for a moment, his swivel chair turning precisely ninety degrees counter clockwise to face his "angry?" cousin, "He's a doll, Matthew. An inanimate object for collective purposes; you'll get too attached if you give it a nickname." Arthur made a sharp turn on his chair, facing back towards his computer. He could be categorized as a very _specific _individual; your average "prim and proper British school boy".

He didn't wish to be interrupted; in the three weeks that the duo was bought, just an hour after the purchase questionable reasons made him become skeptical about the whereabouts of these dolls. Arthur had seen nothing like them; furthermore, he wasn't even familiar with the collections of which the dolls belonged; and it had been the first time he bought something that wasn't exactly in "pristine" condition.

Arthur drummed his fingers on the side of the desk in thought. On the search engine he quickly typed in the words: "French Dolls, Marionette, Paris Collection"

"Hmm?" He leaned in towards the screen, "What's this?"

Arthur clicked on the link, exposing what he considered to be valuable information.

What stood out was not the bright lime green background of the website; but the picture that stood front and centre on the home page.

A picture of both his _and _Matthew's doll together, and in large font on top: "TWO IN A MILLION"

It appeared to be an article of sorts; not too long, so as to bore him, but long enough to provide the necessary information he was looking for regarding these dolls. He read the article to himself.

"_Both collections of Paris and Western were taken by storm into a cloud of popularity in the past five decades. So much so, that competing doll companies during this time were threatened to the point of bankruptcy; because of this, radical measures were taken; the mysterious murder of the doll maker himself; name and age unknown, as well as the burning of all the dolls in stock and sold on record. In a stroke of an almost impossible miracle, the original prototypes of each of the dolls in both the Paris and Western collections were saved, kept locked up in a hidden safe in the victim's private room. When they were found, both were taken into custody and many of the innocent doll companies, distraught by the previous outburst of these dolls, attempted to create replicas of these dolls as 'compensation'. Unfortunately, because of the strange complexity of the structure and form of these dolls, none of the copies would sell, and the original dolls were handed down to the last descendent of the deceased."_

Arthur blinked, and picked up the certificate that he received with his doll that day. It was almost mandatory for a collector of his standards to have one for each doll in his collection.

"Francis…Bonnefoy?" He slowly enunciated the name, then chuckled to himself lowly, "…This would be a merciless _sin_; buying such a thing, if we moved back to see my brothers back home, right, Matthew?"

"Eh?" Matthew was too busy cuddling with his own doll to even notice Arthur calling out to him. He had to admit; though somewhat awkward, it was nice to have Matthew attached to something else other than his stuffed polar bear.

"Come over here." He ordered abruptly, disregarding the fact that he was being demanding; nevertheless, Matthew walked over.

"Hm?" Matthew leant over from behind Arthur's shoulder to see the screen.

"So far…" Arthur started, a know-it-all tone evident in his voice, "the dolls we've bought are '_real'"_

"Really?" His younger cousin tilt his head unknowingly to the side, obviously not sure what that meant.

Arthur clicked a few more times to enlarge a few photos on the website to show Matthew.

"Yes." He gestured towards one with both dolls together, "Apparently_, for a very low price,_ we now own both of the rarest dolls in the world."

Not very impressed, Matthew just smiled politely and held his doll closer.

"Anyways…" Arthur put his computer on hold and turned towards his cousin, "It's time to go eat dinner."

* * *

"There we go!" Arthur set down two bowls of a delicious looking "something" in front of Matthew and himself, "Go on now; eat up!"

"Ehh…?" Matthew picked up his fork with trembling fingers and gently poked the dish on its side. When it suddenly exploded along with an eruption of black murky, opaque gas as it lifted into a cloud in their kitchen, Matthew screamed and cried out; clutching Alfred to his chest, "Save me! Save me! Al! Arthur's cooking is going to eat me!"

Before he knew it, Arthur had already ran to get the fire extinguisher, open up a few windows in the house, and brought him outside to breathe cleaner air while he did his work to clean up in the kitchen.

From the outside, Matthew could hear Arthur blabbering vast amounts of swears, cursing the table, the food, the world. He lifted Alfred so that they were face to face, "…It was never like this, you know."

"Arthur is just doing his best." He squeezed Alfred close, "…_they _never meant to leave us. 'It's only a vacation'_ they_ said. Arthur's the oldest…he'll take care of me."

Matthew was already on the verge of tears; unable to hold it in for any longer, he just let his feelings go, "…Y-you're the only friend I have. Y-y-you'll never leave me."

When Arthur finally finished cleaning and picking up the broken fragments of whatever was left on the floor, he groaned and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. One would think that the cousins would get used to this by now; their surrounding neighbours noticed a blow up of at least five fire trucks encircling their house at _least_ four times a week; on a _good day_.

As Arthur stepped out of the house to gather Matthew back inside, he deadpanned when he noticed the crowd of enraged policemen and firefighters going about their _usual_ business; that is, reminding him about fire safety, stop, drop, and rolling, and of course, to order take out _more_.

* * *

"Fuck!" Arthur yelled, causing Matthew to flinch in fear. It was always painful to hear Arthur cursing out right in front of his eyes, "…They don't _fucking _know us. I do my best to provide for our lives, and those good for nothing 'keepers of the peace' think they have the right to patronize us? They don't even give a damn about all the shit we've been put through!"

"A-Arthur…?" Matthew timidly interjected, the sooner he calmed him down; the better it would be for the both of them.

Arthur immediately settled down; seeing the look of worry in his cousin's eyes was too much for him to stand. He could tell; it hurt him so much.

"I'm sorry." He breathed out, then, taking a seat on the floor next to Matthew, Arthur set upon him a questioning look, "…How do you stay like that?"

"Hmm? Stay like what?"

"Like that!" Arthur poked his cousin's cheek condescendingly, laughing as Matthew pouted.

"I have Al, so…" Matthew looked around for a while, then stood up quickly to pick up something on the other side of the room, as he returned back to his place beside Arthur; dropping the object into his lap.

"That!" Matthew pointed out, Arthur's Parisian doll with bright eyes staring back into his green ones, "When I talk to Al, I feel like all my problems just fade away!"

"Problems, huh?" Arthur stared at the doll for a moment, taking in and trying to absorb what his cousin was saying, "Does it really work?"

"Of course it does!" Matthew exclaimed happily, "They'll listen to your story, no matter how long; never say a word; never judge you. They'll love you no matter what!"

"…Is that so?" Arthur scoffed inwardly. He didn't wish to upset his cousin, after all, Matthew was only trying to help.

What was this he was speaking about? Some kind of "unconditional love"? Did such a thing even exist? Hell, he didn't care. If it worked for Matthew, he might as well try it. He had nothing to lose.

"Thank you, Matthew." He forced a smile, the sentiment only to be rewarded by a colossal bear hug from his cousin.

"Feel better soon, okay?"

* * *

Arthur checked the time; the bright neon lighting beneath the plastic of his dollar store-bought clock beckoning a late _2:00AM. _He had been up that long?

The mysterious aura around these dolls we're intriguing to him. There was something almost _enchanting_ about them. Could it have been the way the clothes appeared almost authentic, as if there were of legitimate position in a war? Or perhaps it was the strange human likeliness of the hair; and those deep blue eyes that stared right back at him…

_Maybe a bit too deeply._

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts and sighed, he had gone through the research for weeks. Was there something wrong with him? He had been infatuated with this doll since the moment he saw it through the display in that store; but what made it so special?

"Perchance…" He concluded, "…it's some sick kind of confounded 'love at first sight'"

It was irrelevant. Who cared?

He was willing to sacrifice_ anything_ to afford for his cousin.

He let out a yawn and lifted himself off the computer chair, dragging his feet lazily towards he and Matthew's shared bunk beds. He stared at the short ladder with solemn eyes; perhaps it was just the day's fatigue coming over him, but the ladder seemed much more tedious to climb than usual. Sure enough, before he knew it, he had made it to the top.

Stretching himself on his bed, he called down to his cousin, "Matthew, you better get some sleep soon." He said sternly, before collapsing on his bed and giving up to the night.

"A-alright!" he replied, but it was already too late; he listened as Arthur's voice turned to nothing but light breathing, a signal that he had fallen asleep.

Looking down to his doll, he held him close; then looked forward to Arthur's study desk. Matthew was never allowed to use the desk, Arthur himself proclaiming that he had to keep all their work organized and proper. He was a workaholic; Matthew knew this well, and would never forget to thank his older cousin for all the things he's done. Walking up to the desk, he noticed that Arthur had left his newly bought doll on the computer's keyboard. Matthew thought, maybe he had forgotten to take it with him, what with all the work he had done for today; must have made him tired.

Matthew picked up the doll and slowly climbed up the ladder, placing it gently beside Arthur. With a sense of accomplishment and pride, he climbed into his own bed and tucked both his polar bear and Al, in with him.

Snuggling under the covers for warmth, he pulled Alfred closer and sighed. Tomorrow would just be a new day. Same old routine.

How very interesting it was however, when the morning after both cousins noticed unfamiliar faces in their beds as they awoke.


	4. Chapter 3

"n-ngh…" Matthew shivered, eyes still closed and hand wandering off to where he blindly thought his blanket was, "…c-cold…"

When he felt the edge of the blanket, he pulled it up; having a harder time getting it up all the way – he figured it was caught on the chipping wood at the end of his bunk. Matthew tugged harder on the blanket until he heard _something _beside him fall with a _thud_ off of his bed; at the same time hearing something from the lower level of the house _crash_. Arthur must've concocted another one of his special breakfasts again…

Now alerted and worried, Matthew squinted his eyes and felt around for his glasses, when the blurry figure of a person came into his not-so-perfect view, handing the spectacles over to him.

"T-thanks Arthu-" His sentence couldn't be finished; for what lay before his eyes was _not _the usual angry glare of his cousin, but the concerned look of a blue-eyed _stranger._

"…"

"…"

The stranger gave him a thumbs up, a huge grin plastered over his face, "You'll be fine! I would've broken your fall anyways!"

"A-ARTHUR!" Matthew screamed in terror, "THERE'S A CREEPY PERSON IN MY BED!"

As quick as Matthew had yelled, Arthur stormed in from the kitchen; Matthew's hockey stick in hand. Enraged.

"I am going to say this as polite as I can. I beat your friend unconscious; and I will _not _hesitate to do the same to you. So drag your buddy from the hallway, _AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE."_

Said "creepy person" was smart; quickly, he made his way out of the room and took his companion outside the house as Arthur followed.

Pointing to a bench he ordered the conscious one to sit, "…Until _he _wakes up, you will stay right here. If you try anything funny I'm calling the authorities."

"Y-yes Sir!" The stranger shot him a two finger salute before laying the other man down onto the bench.

Arthur walked back inside, grumbling to himself about getting a new security system. As he stepped back in and locked the door from the inside, he ordered Matthew – who was still in a bit of a shock – to lock all the windows in the house.

Arthur went over to each room, double checking that every entrance of their residence was securely locked down. Dinner today would have to be delayed.

* * *

"A-Arthur?" Matthew peeked out from his pillow fort, "T-they're still outside!"

Groaning, Arthur got up from his computer chair and walked over to the window to discover that, in fact, the two males were outside, staring up at him from the opposite side of the glass.

Shutting the blinds, Arthur slumped back into his chair and took deep breathes to calm himself down. From his peripheral vision, he caught Matthew running around their room frantically, in search of _something; _turning over books and looking under their beds.

"Matthew? What's the matter?" He swiveled his chair as he watched the scene unfold; his cousin completely panicked over something.

There was a bit of worry in his timid voice as he cried, "I can't find Al! I had him with me last night! Your doll is missing too!"

"Well…"Arthur _knew _something was strange with those men outside... "If we were to assume that those two _idiots _we found this morning were robbers, then they would have taken the dolls and sold them for the cash. After all, they're legitimate. I checked earlier; your Alfred would go for millions at any auction site."

"W-what?" Matthew bawled, "I want him back! Arthur, go beat them up and get him back!"

Matthew was crying; rubbing his eyes in a poor attempt to stop his tears, "I'll see what I can do." Arthur sighed, getting up and walking lazily to the door; he himself was also angry. Not for the fact that two strangers had infested themselves like cockroaches into their house, but for the same simple conclusion Matthew had stated out loud. It belonged to him.

* * *

Opening the door Arthur gestured for the two men to talk, "You have two minutes to explain yourselves and return whatever it is you've stolen."

"We didn't steal anything!" The younger-looking one replied, unfortunately for him, however, Arthur wasn't buying it.

"Look." He started sternly, "My younger cousin is up in our room; crying his eyes out because one of you jerks stole something of high importance from him."

Hopefully a sob story would work; if any of these two had some form of a conscience to return Matthew's doll; and hopefully – his own.

"Mattie's crying?" The first man gasped, genuinely worried; and then, without a second thought, rushed past Arthur into the house to console Matthew.

"HEY, GET BACK HERE!" Arthur angrily called after him, only to be stopped by the now fully awake second member of the duo.

"Please do not be angry with him; I promise you, he will not do anything to harm your cousin."

Arthur shook his hand furiously from the other man's grasp, "Who in the world do you think you are? Saying such things; you don't even know me!"

"And you do not recognize me, _Cher?_" The man looked almost sad; Arthur _almost _felt bad for the guy. Something sparked inside him. Now that he thought about it…

"…you look exactly lik-"

The man nodded in affirmation, "It is me, Francis."

* * *

"Mattie! Mattie!" The boy burst into the room, Matthew going wide eyed started screaming at the top of his voice, "ARTHUR! HELP!" but was abruptly silenced when the stranger tackled him at full velocity in a big hug, retorting with an, "Mattie! It's me, Al!"

With all the strength he could muster up, Matthew pushed him away, "I don't believe you!" as tears started up again, Matthew sobbed into a nearby pillow, "I-I want my A-Al back!"

Slowly, as not to startle Matthew more, he took a seat beside him on his bed, reaching out a hand to pat his back, but retracted it quickly thinking that it wouldn't be a very smart idea.

There was silence for a moment before he spoke, "I'll prove it to you then. That I'm really Alfred."

Lifting his head from the damp pillow, Matthew hiccupped, "H-how?"

"The first week we spent together; you ranted to me about your life. How you eat Arthur's cooking even though he's not a very good cook, and how your homework gives you horrible stress when it piles up; especially how you and Arthur are now living by yourselves and have been since you were only thirteen, and your paren-"

"Alright! I-I get it! Y-you really are Al!" He jumped into his arms, "…I've never said _that _outside my room so it must be you! But… how are- y-you're…human!"

Alfred laughed, holding Matthew closer, "It's a really long story. We should head downstairs; Francis can probably give a better explanation for all…_this_."

* * *

Alfred and Matthew walked quietly down to the living room, the sound of a highly intense "spirited debate" between Francis and Arthur displacing the awkward atmosphere of the room; something along the lines of…dinner? Was that proper conversation for the heat of the moment?

When they noticed the other two peeking from behind the doorway, they immediately stopped and took seats on opposite ends of the sofa, the centre invited to the other half of the party; which they took.

"So…" Alfred laughed nervously, "I guess we owe you a bit of enlightenment with our current…situation…"

"Yes, you do." Arthur sighed, "I haven't been exposed to this much supernatural since I was living in England."

"We are not _exactly _human." Francis began, he knew there were bound to be a ton of questions after, so he'd have to be as clear as possible, "You see, Alfred and I are from different periods of time; we each have a different story to go along with this, which makes it quite difficult to explain."

"We'll try to adapt." Arthur urged, the faster he stated the facts, the faster they would solve this issue.

"During my time as a human, I was part of a very small army, who, in hand, was part of a very small _battle_. As the Captain, it was my job to keep the troops in line. Unfortunately, we had a few…'distorted' members that we over looked. During the night, I was suffocated and shot multiple times, in my sleep. My death of course brought the army down, and we eventually lost the battle. Alfred, here had a more…_merciful _down bringing than myself. Throughout his time period, he was known as a lone rider; a 'hero' of sorts; one who rides his steed with pride, ending all and any gang fights and shootouts. However, he was labelled as a tragic hero. It was apparent that without Alfred around, many of the radical groups could do what ever they wished. So when all the groups naturally joined up, he had no choice to surrender; he was out numbered. Like me, he was shot many times and left to die."

Matthew began tearing up, "T-that's awful!"

"It is." Francis cleared his throat, he figured, the next part would be a harder pill to swallow.

"What both of our stories have in common is simple. When our bodies were cremated, the ashes were sewn into these look-a-like dolls. It is very much like a curse; a spell if you will. Once casted upon us, the spell activates only when we find our considerable 'partner' in which case we return to our human forms; flesh, blood, proper organs, 'the works'. We have never once reverted to this stage, until we were purchased by you."

"…Interesting." Arthur contemplated the idea in his head, but what would they do abou-

"So can they stay? Arthur! Arthur! Can they?" Matthew begged, tugging the sleeve of Arthur's favourite shirt, "You can't just send them out there! They were already living with us anyways!" seems like Matthew beat him to the punch line of his previous thought.

"W-well…" Arthur sweat dropped; he didn't want to make Matthew cry for the umpteenth time again today, and they have _technically _been living together – of course that was when they were _dolls _of all things. Now, they were full grown _men_, "…I suppose it would be alright. As long as we budget our savings carefully, and get everything organized…it should be fi- AGH!" Matthew tackle-hugged him, laughing as he excitedly got off and repeated the process in Alfred's direction.

"We can actually talk to each other now! Isn't that great?" Matthew smiled brightly, tugging Alfred upstairs so that Arthur and Francis could have time to sort out their problems.

As soon as Alfred and Matthew had left the room, the same awkward silence from earlier came upon the other pair.

"So." Arthur began again, "What's the catch?"

Francis feigned shock, "What do you mean, 'catch'?"

"Oh don't even try that with me. You're holding something back; Matthew may not have caught it, but I sure did. So, cough it up." Arthur crossed his arms over his chest; tapping one foot in a rhythm on the ceramic flooring.

"You are a smart one, Arthur." Francis laughed, his "partner" was not unlike himself in many ways, "This human transformation is not permanent."

"Matthew would surely cry if you told him that." Arthur narrowed his gaze.

"And you _will not_, _cher_?" Francis' eyes slightly downcast, it took a while for Arthur to reply, "…w-well…t-that's _classified _information."

Was it the way Arthur embarrassed himself? Or the cute blush across his face? Maybe the way he declined any feeling of love towards him? Francis didn't know.

Pushing Arthur up against the nearest wall he chuckled and touched their foreheads together, "You are in _love _with me." He blatantly stated, "I noticed; when our eyes first met in the shop. Are you willing to deny that?"

"Maybe." He smirked back, "But you haven't answered my question. Don't even think of changing the subject."

Pulling back, Francis laughed softly, "There are rings."

"Rings?" Arthur lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, "explain."

"Rings that were sold with the Parisian dolls and the western dolls; the replicas are almost identical to the originals. The only difference is that the originals give off a faint glow if either Alfred or myself approach our assigned rings."

Francis sighed, "…to make a long story short, those rings will break this 'spell'"

A little unsure, Arthur decided that he would accept this story, _for the time being_, "How long do we have?"

"A bit over a year." Francis replied, "Plenty of time."

"But how exactly are we supposed to locate these rings? There must be over a million replicas!"

"No problem. I know the exact location of our rings. All we have to do is make a _trade_ with the current owner."

The story in itself was already sounding suspicious, but Arthur played along anyways signalling for Francis to continue with a head nod, "A trade. We are not the _only_ enchanted dolls. The owner has been looking for a specific doll; I do believe with your expertise, we will be able to find it in no time." Francis concluded.

"Alright then. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, we need to fix up dinner."

With a swift pivot, Arthur turned towards the doorway and dashed into the kitchen; Francis following right behind him.

* * *

"…And this…" Matthew fluffed a few pillows placing them on his bed, "…Is where you'll sleep!"

Laughing, Alfred lunged at Matthew, pushed him onto the bed and began to cuddle, "Right beside you! My favourite place to be! I'll keep you warm, so don't you worry about a thing."

"Okay!" Matthew replied cheerfully, the two got up as Matthew pulled an even bigger amount of pillows and comforters from he and Arthur's shared closet.

"Need help?" Alfred asked, watching amusedly as Matthew made an effort to carry the load – without much success – up the ladder and on to Arthur's bunk.

"Y-yes, please!" Matthew cried out, allowing Alfred to remove a bit over two-thirds of the heavy load.

"T-there!" Sighing as the last of the pillows were thrown –_ neatly_ on the bunk, Matthew stepped down from the ladder, "That should be sufficient enough for the both of them."

"That's good." Alfred stretched, today had been a long one after all.

"_MATTHEW, GET DOWN FOR DINNER!" _They heard Arthur shout from down in the kitchen. Alfred noticed Matthew cringe slightly, and in the moment; took his cowboy hat off, putting it square a top Matthew's head, "What? Not hungry?"

"N-no! It's not that!" Matthew sounded confused, the hat was a bit bigger on him; it kept slipping off, "B-but when Arthur cooks the meals, if I were you, I'd be afraid!"

Alfred linked their arms together and walked Matthew down the stairs, "It can't be _as bad _as last time. Besides, with Francis there, he won't have any time to finish cooking even one dish."

* * *

"Woah."

"You can say that again."

When Alfred and Matthew arrived at the foot of the kitchen's dining table, what surprised Matthew the most was the variety of _actually edible-looking cuisine_ put on the table.

"W-what's all this?"

Francis beamed, "During my time I was not only an honourable captain; but a very successful chef! You may sit down and eat now, before it gets cold."

Matthew took his usual seat next to Arthur; Alfred beside Matthew; and Francis on Arthur's opposite side.

Tomato salad with mozzarella cheese, chicken soup (he assumed Arthur had "made" by opening a can that they usually had stored somewhere), and a pitcher of strawberry juice in the centre of it all. The flavours were justifiable as well; although the quantity was few, it was as if they were eating food straight from a five star restaurant.

"A-Arthur?" Matthew asked, "You're not upset? I know how much you love cooking…"

"It's fine." Arthur cut in, finishing his second serving, he pointed to Francis, "He'll be doing most of the work; it'll save us time for other things."

Matthew just smiled; he knew his cousin well. Although he would never admit it, he knew that Arthur couldn't be any happier.

_It just takes time._

With dinner finished, the four of them headed upstairs and prepared for bed. Luckily, Arthur had stored extra toothbrushes and necessities for sustaining all of them.

In the bedroom, Matthew had finished changing, only to be pulled into another massive hug by Alfred, "Awh! Look at you! So cute in your maple leaf pyjamas! I'm going to smother you until morning!"

Blinking, Matthew made an awkward face, but laughed when he remembered that Alfred was – and only had – his cowboy attire on, "…You need clothes for bed too."

"Just lend him some of yours for now." Arthur interrupted, walking in with Francis behind, "Tomorrow we'll take them wardrobe shopping."

"Okay!" Matthew signalled for Alfred to get to bed, as he went to shut the door and the light. Arthur and Francis too, had already organized themselves into a comfortable position above in their bunk, and were fast to fall asleep.

Quietly, Matthew slipped into bed, turning over so that his front was facing Alfred, "Arthur's a light sleeper." He whispered, "So if we're not quiet he'll be really angry."

Alfred laughed "Then sleep." He whispered back, removing both of their glasses and placing them on the bedside table; then pulling Matthew into a warm embrace, he himself began to drift to sleep.


	5. Chapter 4

Morning had arrived; _peaceful _this time, in contrast to the previous one, Matthew stirred in his sleep, yawned, and woke up; eye lids fluttering open to stare at – his now life sized; and _slightly _taller than him – doll who happened to have woken up much more earlier than he had.

Matthew smiled, and cuddled closer towards Alfred, "I missed you." He mumbled against his chest, to which Alfred replied playfully, "How could you, when I was here beside you all night?"

"Because…" Matthew sighed, "I didn't see you in my dreams."

"Is that so?" Alfred laughed, patting Matthew's head as he pouted. Although he was glad that everything had gone well, he was actually expecting for Arthur to call the authorities, or knock them out with a blunt object and dump them in a ditch somewhere for "breaking and entering".

"Yes, it is!" He cuddled further in, "Arthur's going to take us shopping today; for new clothes and house stuff."

When they heard the loud clanking of pots and pans, and the sound of someone cursing profanely in the kitchen, they rose from their bed, "Arthur and Francis must be cooking breakfast" Matthew grimaced, "I hope kitchen hasn't burned down again…"

"Should we head downstairs then?" Alfred stood up and began stretching his arms, and helped Matthew to his feet as they prepared to go downstairs.

* * *

"FUCK!" Blood dripped in heavy doses from Arthur's finger onto a white towel, "STUPID KNIFE. YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THAT SHARP."

He sat on a chair in the dining area, writhing in pain and cursing every three seconds. Arthur made sure to keep constant pressure on the deep cut, in an attempt to discontinue the bleeding, as he waited for Francis to return with one of the hundreds of first aid kits that he kept strategically in the bathroom.

As the footsteps echoed closer to him, Arthur scowled, biting down on his bottom lip to keep back his tears. Francis came in, a bag in hand. Upon unzipping the bag, he pulled out some sanitary wipes, and bandages.

"Hold still now, this may hurt a bit." Ripping the paper packaging off the wipe, he carefully unfolded it and dabbed it lightly over Arthur's cut.

Arthur hissed in pain, his free arm restraining itself from punching Francis, "…a-argh! That _fucking _hurts!"

"I know, I know, _shh…_" When he was finished cleaning the area, he quickly opened up a band-aid and wrapped it firmly around the cut.

For extra precautions, he pressed a kiss above the beige fabric and laughed as Arthur tore his hand away from Francis' grasp and abruptly stood up.

"L-let's just go to breakfast."

* * *

"Mmmf! Difsh schtuff ish derishursh!" Alfred gulped hard, and then proceeded to chomp down on his third serving of an omelet.

"Al! Don't talk with your mouth full!" Matthew scolded, taking some napkins from a nearby stand to wipe up the mess Alfred had made around the table.

Taking one last bite of his breakfast, Alfred swallowed and leaned back, sighing in contentment as he waited for the rest of the group to finish eating.

"I can't wait to go to the store!" Alfred laughed, "I've always wanted to slide down those stair railings instead of being tossed to the ground!"

Matthew sweat dropped, and pat Alfred on the shoulder, "A-actually…we're going to a mall, and now-a-days have escalators rather than stairs…"

Alfred blinked in confusion, "…a _what_?"

"A-an escalator!" Matthew exclaimed; to his left, he could see Arthur holding his laughter in, and Francis looking equally lost, "They're like s-stairs, but you stand on a step and it takes you up to the next floor…by itself!"

"…No way!" Alfred slammed his fists on the table, completely intrigued by the new information, "We _have _to go as soon as possible!"

Arthur muffled his laugh and smiled, "Well, you are technically from a different time period."

"_Oui,_ we have missed a few years…but before we were left in the store you bought us in, we have had previous owners in somewhat closer time frames to this one; we were able to adapt."

"Oh." Arthur stood up and began to collect the empty dishes. He quickly put them into the dishwasher, added some soap, and started up the machine, "Alright, let's start heading out now, so we don't have to drive around the lot to wait for parking."

* * *

Arthur was _sure _he'd seen that same sign for the fiftieth time during their thirty minute round of the lot, and, after thirty-_one_ minutes, he began to curse, slamming down on the car's horn at the five other cars in front of him.

"Damn it!"

"Arthur, you should watch your language around Matthew, you may corrupt hi-"

Honking the horn again – this time with more anger, Arthur glared harshly at Francis, "Don't correct me on language! As the only one capable of driving here, I reserve my personal right to express my anger, unlike _some _people who had to live their lives riding horseback!"

After a few hours, when the boys had _finally _found a parking spot, they made their way out of the parking area, and into the actual mall.

"…WOAH." The moment the four of them had stepped into the mall, Matthew looked closely at Alfred and Francis' expressions while they took their time to scan the new environment.

Alfred made a face of mixed emotions between confusion and nostalgia, "…Things sure have changed since we were put in storage…"

Francis nodded, "I agre-"

"-MATTIE! MATTIE! YOU WERE RIGHT! MAGIC MOVING STAIRS!" Francis was cut off by Alfred pointing and jumping up and down vigorously in the direction of the escalator in a very child-like manner; along with gathering strange stares from the surrounding shoppers in the area.

"Let's go!" Alfred grabbed Matthew by the wrist and began dragging him towards the escalator. From a distance, he heard Arthur yell out, "Don't forget to get everything on your list!"

"O-okay!"

* * *

"…This is crazy!" Alfred started fidgeting on the step of the escalator that he was standing on, while Matthew blushed and looked away; embarrassed by the suspicious whispering coming from the people behind him.

As the escalator reached the top, Matthew advised Alfred to get off quickly – instead of jumping from step to step and staying on – to prevent any more angry outbursts from pregnant women and traumatized children.

"So…" Alfred started, "where are we going?"

"To get you new clothes, of course!" Matthew was excited; He had always loved window shopping, and, being decently fashionable, he couldn't wait to pick out some new clothes for Alfred, and – if he had extra money left over – for himself.

"Here!" Matthew gestured towards a large clothing shop, "They have a lot of styles here, although, I've never actually bought from this place myself…"

The two entered the shop, and at once, they were bombarded with questions from a "typical" store clerk; to which Matthew timidly replied, "I-I'm just looking for clothes for m-my friend here…"

With the sales clerk lead away from them by an angry looking manager, Alfred and Matthew commenced their search for a new wardrobe. Somewhere in the middle of their little escapade, they had split up to cover more ground.

Matthew had wandered off into a widespread collection of hooded sweaters. He had found some of the styles to be _sort of _appealing.

"Mattie!" He heard Alfred cry out from the end of the aisle, "Get over here!"

Nervously, Matthew quickly made his way to where Alfred was, and noticed that he had already picked out some clothes for himself.

"I tried these on already!" He piled the clothing into a tiny basket he found near the dressing area, "I also found something for you!"

"Y-you really didn't have to do that! This trip is for you, after all!" But before his words could reach Alfred, a brown furry hoodie was pulled from the pile, the top of the hood adorned with two, round, equally furry, bear ears.

Alfred grinned, "Cute, huh? I picked it out just for you!"

Cute, it was. Matthew reached out and felt the soft fabric; it was fluffy, and, because winter was coming upon them rather quickly, he thought that perhaps this sweater would be appropriate, however…

"I think it's _too _cute for me!"

Laughing, Alfred unzipped the hoodie and helped Matthew into it. When he had zipped it back up, he flipped the hood onto his head and pulled Matthew towards a mirror smiling, "See? You look great!"

Matthew blushed, "Y-you think?" never in his life had the poor boy received a compliment; even something this small made him happy.

"Of course! So, we pay now, right? Because…I'm starting to get a bit hungry…" Alfred looked around frantically; these new-period stores really were abstract to him.

"Yes, we'll pay over there." Matthew pointed towards a large counter in the center of the store, then realized something strange about the last part of Alfred's sentence, "…Hungry? I thought dolls didn't eat?"

"Well, in my _human _form, I need to eat just like every other person." Alfred explained, "In my _doll _form I stay stationary; I'm unable to move, so I stay the way I am until I change forms again."

"Oh..." Matthew thought, "Wait! So, you're able to control which form you're in?"

It was interesting; Matthew had always believed that – from what he's learned since _that _day – Alfred and Francis were only able to change one they had met their specific partners. Yet, here they were, a bit taller than Arthur and himself, as _people. _Maybe he had missed something during the encounter that day…

"That's what I was told, by Francis; apparently, he had transformed into his human form once before!"

_Once _before? Now Matthew was suspicious. If enchanted dolls first transform when they are with their partner, how was it possible that Francis had transformed before they had met?

Something changed a bit in Alfred's tone as he spoke, "That's a story you should ask Francis personally." Matthew jumped a bit, shocked; he had been thinking out loud again.

* * *

**COSPLAY FOR "SECONDHAND MARIONETTE": **h t t p : / / emgee-chan . deviantart . c o m / # / d345q6i


	6. Chapter 5

With the necessary supplies finally purchased, the friends met up and decided to go out for lunch at a nearby all you can eat buffet close to the mall.

"Damn! This place is awesome!" Alfred cheered, stuffing his face with food, which he consumed in less than a minute. He then proceeded to fill up his umpteenth plate with more food, resulting in many more stares from the neighboring customers inside the restaurant.  
"A-Al! Don't speak with your mouth full! It's rude!" Matthew cried, lightly smacking Alfred on the arm as he did so – which in turn, had no affect on the other.

"All you can eat, for less than five dollars?" He practically yelled, "Mattie, you need to load up on food before we leave!"

Arthur face palmed, "…And here I thought Matthew was enough of a handful…" he mumbled to himself, "…My life just became much more complicated."

A light chuckle echoed beside him, and he turned his head to glare fiercely at the man it came from, "…Just what do you think is so funny?"

"_Cher, _your life became complicated the moment your interest was piqued by us at that store."

"I suppose you're right." He managed to say through his teeth, "…but at least _they're_ getting along."  
They took a moment to watch the other pair amusingly make a scene.

"Mattie! Maaattie! Say 'Ahh'!" He scooped a bit of vanilla ice cream from a bowl he had just received, and held it out in front of the smaller male, who blushed and embarrassingly leant forward to eat.

"So? How is it?" Alfred beamed.

Matthew sweat dropped, still _slightly _embarrassed, "I-it's good…!"

"I wish we had these places opened up back in my day!" Alfred stuffed more food into his mouth, with minimal chewing, swallowing hard, "I'd be in complete heaven!"

Beside him, Arthur grumbled – mostly to himself, "…kids, these days…" blatantly unaware of the fact that he was of the same age – still technically "older", he would argue; even if the number was concealed by a few mere months. Mostly stemming from a forced maturity, a robbed childhood; he almost felt like a parent doting on a child.

"Matthew, Alfred." Arthur started, "Finish up the food so that I can pay the bill. We need to get home early to organize the supplies we bought."

* * *

Upon arriving at the house, the group set the mountain of shopping bags by the stairway and slumped together; or, at least tried to – on the sofa.

"There's not enough room!" Alfred complained, "…I wanted to sit next to Mattie!"

"Oh please." Arthur rolled his eyes, "First come, first served. Now shove that in a juice box, and suck it up like a man."

Alfred huffed angrily, sending obvious death glares towards Arthur.

Panicking, Matthew hurriedly sat up from the couch without much success, "I-it's a loveseat, Al! The most it can fit is two people!"

Feigning hurt, Alfred sighed over dramatically, "Oh! I see how it is! There's no 'love' for me on this piece of furniture! I'll just go upstairs, and sulk in a dark corner, like a peasant!"

And, with a fake sob for added dramatic effect, Alfred fled rapidly upstairs into their shared room, and shut the door loud enough for everyone to hear.

This gave time for the awkward silence to sink in.

"…Has he _always _been lik-"  
"Yes." Francis answered instantaneously; closing his eyes, rubbing his head in annoyance, "He just needs some attention, that is all."

The trio stayed quiet for a moment, and, when the unusual silence persisted, Matthew began to worry.

"…I-is he o-o-okay? Maybe h-he's mad at me!" Matthew flailed around, knocking down a lamp and several other inanimate objects in his way.

"…Just hurry up and comfort him, then! We don't need any more _incidents _involving him raging around the house later on today." Arthur added, knowing Matthew was already well on his way upstairs, "AND PICK THOSE THINGS UP. I DON'T WANT THE NEIGHBOURS TO THINK I BLEW THE HOUSE UP AGAIN AND DIDN'T BOTHER TO FIX THE AFTERMATH."

* * *

"A-Al?..." Matthew whispered, opening the door slightly to peer inside; there, he found him laying face down on their shared bunk, mumbling nonsense into a pillow. Automatically, Matthew found himself washed over with guilt, and, walking cautiously up to Alfred, he tapped him gently on the shoulder, "A-Al…? I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to…_hic_…"

Alerted, Alfred shot up worriedly, only to have Matthew sob harder, and cry more into his shirt sleeve.

"W-well!" Alfred nervously laughed, "I was only joking! You don't need to cry!" he pat Matthew on the head consolingly, which had only helped a bit, as he wiped the last of his tears away with his sleeve, "…R-really?"

"Yes, really."

Relieved, Matthew relaxed, and yawned heavily and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Alfred's shoulder, "…I-I'm sleepy now…"

Every time he cried, he ended up so tired he just couldn't help it. Some might call it, a hard habit to break.

"C'mere." Alfred laughed, his arms spread wide; Matthew sighed, and tackled him gently into a hug as they both fell back on the bed; Matthew using Alfred's chest as a pillow.

Half asleep, Matthew felt the room fall into a comfortable silence, every so often, however, Matthew would feel his head move to a consistent rhythm, up, and down.

He's never had anyone, save for maybe Arthur.

This "doll collection" was simply a hobby; something to fill the void that their parents had left behind.

_Up, and down again._

Matthew knew for a fact that this was different; and although he knew very little about his doll, he did know this much: he wasn't going to be alone anymore.

_Up, down._

For someone to simply "breathe" life into an inanimate object; almost miraculously, it seemed like a dream. He chuckled inwardly to himself, "_if only kuma could do that…"_

He cuddled closer to Alfred, smiling as he took note of the evident heartbeat beneath his clothing.

_Yes, this was real._

Perhaps his doll collection would now and forever consist of only him.

* * *

Back downstairs, Arthur flipped through random channels on the television, hoping that the blaring noise of any channel would block out the loud tapping of keys as Francis used his laptop.

"…This is very impressive! To think, our world has evolved in such technology!" Francis continued typing, mesmerized by the small screen.

"…It's just like a compute-" _Oh…_ Arthur mentally slapped himself; _they never had high-tech gadgets in those days…_

"…Never mind." He switched the television off, and dragged himself to sit beside Francis on the couch, "…What are you doing?"

"Just some research, that is all." Francis scrolled down, the never ending sea of text flooding the screen without a seeming end. Arthur felt his eye twitch, "…that's a lot of information."

"…yes…" Francis kept his eyes fixed on the screen, "…here." He seemed much more intrigued, he pulled him closer and pointed towards a cluster of paragraphs, "Arthur, _here_."

"…What?" Arthur stood confused, "here what? SPEAK ENGLISH."

"…I may have possibly found the location of the first ring."


	7. Chapter 6

"Shouldn't that be good news, then?" Arthur questioned, eyebrow raised, "If you know the location of one of the rings, then we can go ahead and get half the job don-!"

"It is not that simple!" Francis cut Arthur off abruptly, "The rings will only respond if the masters willingly cooperate."

Irritated, Arthur pressed on, "…meaning…?"

"Meaning, gaining possession of the ring would have to be of a completely selfless act. Moreover, a master cannot just walk into the room, take the ring, and simply leave." Francis explained.

"You make it sound as if the ring was alive." Arthur thought for a moment before continuing, "…would that mea-"

"_Oui, _the master will be tested by the ring; a one of a kind, personalized trial of creditability. There is no way to prepare for the challenge; you either pass or fail. Once the master passes, the doll will remain in its human state. These rings were created for the sole purpose of keeping the assigned souls attached to the doll from being destroyed permanently."

The thought almost frightened Arthur; he had to admit though, the simpler route of just walking in and taking it sounded much more pleasant. However, the ring would not allow for that. He pursed his lips in thought, something still wasn't clear.

"…What happens if the master fails this 'trial'?" The answer to this question seemed to terrify Francis more; Arthur guessed, by the incredibly distressed look in the Frenchman's eyes.

Francis hesitated for a while, biting his lower lip as if to keep the answer locked away; it was inevitable, he concluded, Arthur had to know the consequence.

"If they happen to fail…" Arthur noticed Francis' hands tremble slightly as he spoke, "…The doll will forever stay as a doll. They would be trapped; imprisoned, for eternity."

Again, silence filled the room, Arthur having only one thought in his mind; how would Matthew react? How could he possibly explain all this to his younger cousin? The weight of the current situation was now tipping his scale of reality so much so that even his dreams would be lighter than air.

Now, he couldn't even form coherent sentences, phrases, conclusions, anything! Arthur thought it would be best to keep the information away from Matthew for the time being. Yet, Arthur still had some questions.

"…whose ring is it?"

"Mine." The answer was immediate; Arthur could tell that the look in Francis' eyes was one of worry, from the very beginning, "There is also a very good chance that Alfred's ring is located in the same country."

"…Where is it right now?" If they could get this done as quickly as possible, then maybe they had a chance…

"…London." Francis sighed; Arthur could've sworn he saw his eye twitch.

Feeling relieved, Arthur straightened up, "Oh, well, if it's just one city awa-"

"…not _that _London." Francis laughed, patting Arthur's head jokingly to make the situation a bit less serious, "I mean; the ring has now taken refuge in a historical museum in London, _England_."

"T-t-that!" Arthur stuttered, wide eyed, "THAT'S ALL THE WAY IN EUROPE!"

When Francis tried to calm him down, Arthur grew frantic, allowing him absolutely no time to speak. After all, they had moved from Britain to Canada a long while back; he often mixed the countries up.

"How in the world are we going to scrape up enough money to travel to England?"

"You may not need to pay a cent!" Francis finally found room to squeeze into the Arthur's rant with himself, "Many of our previous owners worked in trade and international relations." Arthur settled down, curiously wondering where Francis was going with this idea of his.

He cleared his throat, "They've never seen us in our human forms, but, during the time they had us, we've gained some valuable information that could help us…"

"…You're talking about _bribing _them." Arthur cut in again, "…That could get us in an excessive amount of trouble." He didn't mind much for himself, but if Matthew ever got hurt because of this, it could be problematic.

"I will do my best to shadow all the blame."

* * *

Completely oblivious to the situation downstairs, Alfred curiously watched from the comfort of his self-made pillow fort – of which he was very, _very _proud – as Matthew took down all the dolls from his bedside cabinet, and placed them neatly in a line in front of him.

Alfred watched as Matthew grouped them up by colours first, then worked on putting them back in line; forming a rainbow of dolls. He made a mental note of the way his owner pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows in thought; taking one doll in hand, before shaking his head and putting it right back down; thinking again.

"M-Mattie…?" Alfred dared to speak, not intending to break Matthew's train of thought, but genuinely inquisitive at the same time, "What are you doing?"

"Organizing dolls" He answered simply, "Arthur taught me how!"

Carefully – so as to not knock over anything valuable – Alfred slithered out of his fort, and took a seat beside Matthew while he worked.

"So…how exactly does this work?" There had to be at least ten to fifteen dolls in the batch, and this whole concept of "organization" was not one he was familiar with.

"It's easy!" Matthew gathered the dolls into a pile, "First, you line them up by the dates they were made! The older dolls would start on the left side of the line…" He tried to explain, fixing the dolls into a straight line, "…and the more recently made dolls on the right side."

"I see…" When, in all actuality, he _didn't; _but he went along with it anyways, because he found it interesting to listen while Matthew spoke.

"Arthur told me to start on the very last shelf with the newer dolls, and then to move on to the shelf above it. The top shelf is reserved for favourites."

Now fully attentive, Alfred smirked, "So…" He spun his cowboy hat on its rim before putting it on his head, "Where do I go?"

"No where in there." Matthew replied simply, causing Alfred to break a little on the inside. Noticing this, Matthew panicked, flailing his hands quickly above his head, "I-I didn't mean it like that! If I put you up on the shelf, then I'll be lonely!" He added, "…I would only have Kuma; Arthur won't let me hold on to any of _these _dolls unless we're tidying up the cabinet…"

That, and the fact that most of the dolls were fragile with age; he didn't trust himself to handle them carefully.

"I guess that makes sense" Alfred concluded, nodding to himself, "I'd be bored to death in that thing, anyways."

Being stuck in a dusty showcase for a good decade was enough; he decided it was best to live in the moment.

* * *

Dinner had rolled on by just as quickly has the day had started; the – now edible – food set a good mood for the evening, however, during the midst of eating his steak – medium rare, and drizzled with a sauce who's name he couldn't even pronounce – Matthew noticed that Arthur was acting eerily quiet.

Usually, he would have criticised the lack of flavour in his meal; or how much better he could've cooked the dish; followed by a blathering rant on the intellectualities of English food, versus, the French.

Matthew opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Alfred yelled out, "…IT'S TOO QUIET."

_Obviously._

Taking the opportunity, Matthew chimed in, "…A-Arthur? Are you feeling well? You seem distant…"

He cringed when Arthur sighed irritably, wiping his mouth with the napkin, as he went to wrap his leftovers in saran wrap, shoving it somewhere in the fridge. Francis followed suit.

"Finish your dinner and meet us in the living room; we need to talk."

* * *

Arthur kept a set pace, worriedly moving back and forth in the living room; so much so that he generated enough energy to cause a tiny static shock upon bumping into Matthew who then bumped into Alfred, after they had finished their meals.

Wasting no time, Arthur directed everyone to take their seats, sighing irritably as Alfred began whining about who got to sit next to Matthew.

"…Please do not start this up, _again._" Francis finally said, organizing everyone so that there would be no more unnecessary interferences. He signalled for Arthur to continue.

"Now…" He started, "…The location of Francis' ring has been confirmed."

He waited a moment for the look for shock across his cousin's face to subside before slowly highlighting the issues that were sure to bring up many questions.

"A historical museum in Europe is where it's located. Unfortunately, we have no funds to allow for us to pay for a flight; Francis _insists _that we take a much more…_inexpensive _route."

Matthew nodded, clearly not understanding what Arthur meant by "inexpensive", he then turned to Alfred who was more than willing to input his own opinion, "It should be fine then! The faster we find his ring, then the faster it'll be to find mine! _Where exactly_ are we going in Europe?"

_That _was the question Arthur wanted to avoid the most. The look of pure naivety on his cousin's face was something he didn't wish to destroy. However, he had no choice but to respond.

"…London, Englan-"

"-No." Arthur was suddenly cut off by Matthew; whose voice had dropped a slight octave, meshed with a darker tone, "…I'm not going."

To his left, Alfred sat in disbelief. He had never expected such a reaction from the much more timid, quiet, male! In comparison to Arthur – or anyone in general – the boy was almost _invisible._

Arthur knew that the past had accumulated false hope for Matthew; especially when they were so young. Going back to where they were raised would just spark more sorrow in both himself, and Matthew. He mentally shook his head; he _had _to move on, even if it meant pushing his cousin just a little over the edge to do it.

"...So you're just going to stay here; let Francis whither away to dust as a doll? What about Alfred? If their rings are both in England, what becomes of them?"

Arthur absolutely _hated _being strict with Matthew, for fear of making him cry. Nonetheless, what must be done has to _be_ done; and, when Matthew didn't put up a fight, giving only a panicked look of distress and a feverous shake of his head, Arthur knew that he had won this battle.

"We will pack tonight, and leave first thing tomorrow." Francis added, "Do not pack too much; we do not need excess weight to pull us down."

With that said, Arthur validated his thoughts once more; craning his neck a bit to see his cousin being consoled by a very unhelpful Alfred.

He got up from his seat walked towards Matthew on the sofa, squatting down only slightly so that he was at they were at the same eye level, "…I apologize for speaking so harshly with you…" he offered a nervous smile, eyes gentle, genuinely sorry, "you're not angry with me, are you?"

Matthew began to tear up, sniffling as he cried into his sleeve, before tackling Arthur with a hug, "I-I'm n-n-not!"

He would always love his cousin; that, he knew. The only person to ever care for him as a child; he could never hate Arthur.

Traveling back to England – back in time; if Arthur wanted him to, then he would.

After all, the gears of their story had already begun to spin backwards the moment they had walked into that shop.


End file.
